


Whale Fall

by Jeneva



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Magic, Multi, Other, Overseers - Freeform, Platonic Romance, Slow Burn, Spoilers, The Abbey of the Everyman - Freeform, maybe more? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 09:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeneva/pseuds/Jeneva
Summary: A Historical Inquisitor stumbles upon the very real threat that comes when crossing the powerful Abbey in Poolwick. But this is not just the bad luck that accompanies a bit of bone. Something is shifting in world and while everyone is wrapped up in the turmoil of the decade, a much quieter, but equally important story plays out. Full of dreams, mischief, magic, and a god.





	Whale Fall

Excerpts from the Journal of Sinead Blaythe

 

4th Month of Harvest 1851

            I arrived in Poolwick on the 23rd of the last Month by rail. Terrible time to travel but there was only minimal delay. I had the great fortune of having an apartment secured prior to my arrival by the Curator herself! The place is furnished and not too far from the museum. It is quite nice and on the top floor. Though, whomever lives below me has a habit of playing their audiograph extremely loud.

            This little section of city is called the Musser Quarter after some philanthropist. It seems to be the name of everything from the station to the café to the Museum itself! This Musser certainly left a mark. The street I live on is not too busy, but certainly livelier than during my days as a student. The railcar has a very loud warning bell that I suppose I shall grow accustomed to. The windows face west, so I will not have to deal with a bright wake up in the mornings. The wallpaper is peeling in places and the tub needs to be doused and rescrubbed. Whoever was hired to clean did a poor job. Yet, for all my complaining, it is terribly convenient. The bottom of the building houses a tailor and there is a grocer, a barber, and a pharmacy all within easy walking. In good weather I suspect my walk to the Museum to take a mere half hour and only fifteen minutes by railcar. The furnishings are in good shape, though I will buy myself a new mattress. I do not like the thought of bugs left behind by the previous tenant.

I am taking the time from unpacking my clothes to write mother and father as well as Jules. Though I shall not mail them until next week, so I can tell them of my new position as Historical Inquisitor.

 

7th Month of Harvest 1851

            Truly it was a fortunate happening that this position opened just as I finished my studies. The pay is light, lighter than I would have liked for the expense of living so far in town. But I imagine this can be improved. If I work hard and show my diligence I can be expected to move to a better position. My role is mostly tied to the archivist. Tasks such as reference work and translation. This will make excellent use of my skills in ancient writings. The archivist, her name was Eunice I think, told me that while the items are stored, they have not been properly categorized and labeled in years. I was really quite shocked to hear this but made no mention of it. I am already finding that working is far different than studying.

            I finally finished my letters to mother and father. Jules will have to wait as I want to find a little trinket to send. Last time I got a package with a jar of Bastilian fig jam. I have yet to learn what local favorites Poolwick boasts but I hope it is not jellied ox tongue.

 

9th Month of Harvest

            Eunice took me on a proper tour before the doors of the museum opened to the public. What a place! The Museum hosts a number of permanent and temporary exhibits despite being rather small. It is nothing to the Old Imperial City Museum in Dunwall or the Royal Conservatory, but it does its part admirably. There is an entire wing devoted to taxidermy beasts above which hangs the skeleton of _Basilosaurus cetoides._ It was marvelous. I also had the thrill of being shown the little places behind the walls. Passages between exhibits and halls that can be accessed with my key. Apparently, these are leftovers from when the Museum was the home of Henrich Musser. I can only imagine what they were originally built for, but now they house extra cables and lighting supplies. I found it delightful.

            The Human Progression exhibit does seem to be lacking. When I met with the Curator, she mentioned her wish to have the exhibit expanded to include more pre-burning artifacts. As such, I have been tasked with sorting through some of the jumbled archive to identify any applicable pieces we might display. At last my work begins!

            Mother and father wrote back and are well. They sent me a set of watercolors, so I may paint them the view of my street. I shall do an evening painting as the sun makes the buildings across the street glow like jewels. My neighbor has continued with the obnoxious audiograph. Apparently fond of the same sonata from an opera I am afraid I will tear up the floorboards and rip the thing apart. I have asked many times for him to turn it down to no avail. It is quite distracting.

 

13th Month of Harvest ~~181~~ 1851

            It is very hot in Poolwick. Without the ocean winds, the air becomes stale and stagnant. At times it can become what my landlady calls ‘smoggy’. A mix of smoke and fumes from the mill district that gets caught in the humidity. I found it very hard to get a good lungful on my way to work and spent much of the morning with a handker ~~cheif~~ chief around my face to protect the artifacts from my coughing. Kensington, who works in grounds, gave me a spare mask for my walk home with the promise that I shall buy one for myself. An unexpected expense on my already strained budget.

            At the end of the month there is to be a patron’s gala where friends of the museum are invited to a private showing and ~~o’rderv~~   ~~ors~~ hors d’oeuvre. All of the main staff are invited as well. Which means I need a suit. Another expense. Hurray.

            Note – must mail Jules’ present!

 

15th Month of Harvest

            Will this heat not end? Or rather, would a stiff wind just come and blow all the stale wet air away? Work has become stifling. In an effort to keep the humidity from ruining the more delicate exhibits the fans have been going non-stop for days. While it is refreshing for those on the main floors, my spot in the basement (or dungeon as Eunice calls it) is stifling. I have taken to removing my vest and unbuttoning my shirt while at work just to keep from passing out. Thankfully I am quite isolated in my little corner and the floors creak loudly enough for me to gather myself if someone comes by. But it is insufferable, and I am reluctant to bring out any of the paper artifacts for fear I would drip sweat on them! I have instead decided to work on the miscellaneous section and set about organizing that.

            On another note, I recalled a dream I had not a week ago. It was something Eunice had said as we stood together with some of our other colleagues for tea. Or maybe it was the smell of honey. Either way, I was suddenly struck with the familiarity of it all. I was able to predict what she said next, as well as Wyles’ and Marguerite’s responses. All from that dream. If it was not for my utter surprise at the recollection, I might have made use of the information ahead of time. Oh well, I suppose a moment’s foresight is better than most! Truly a curious thing.

 

17th Month of Harvest

            I am LIVID. In my efforts to stay busy during this heatwave, I set about the dusty section of the archives to sort out the boxes of artifacts. How terribly they had been stored! None of the items were properly labeled or wrapped. One bit of ceramic work from Wei Ghon was lying, completely shattered, in the bottom of a box. I immediately reported it to the Curator and she then informed me that those were left over from when the Abbey had come through in pursuit of “heretical artifacts”.

I must admit I couldn’t hide my horror. Ms. Moon proceeded to inform (warn?) me of the popularity of the Abbey in Poolwick. I was frankly stunned that they were allowed to ransack an entire collection on the basis of some religious fear of the unknown. Ms. Moon seemed irritated by it all as well but was very against any harsh words against the Abbey. I realize I must be more cautious with my words least I offend her. But the outrage I feel is astounding. I immediately wrote to father and Jules. We had read in lecture about the purging during the war in White Cliff but to see it continuing is sickening. I would have thought the people beyond that. I am mistaken.

            Marguerite was quick to fill me in when I asked about the Abbey. She is devout, though not in that brimstone fashion I had heard from people on pulpits in the street. Apparently, the Abbey are the officials of law in Poolwick, barring civil cases or finances. In Alba no one could imagine such a thing. What kind of justice can one expect when you could be accused of heresy for reading a book on myths and tales of the Gristol? Margarite invited me to attend midweek service and I lied and said my landlady was coming to fix a leaky pipe and I had to be there.

            So now I am left with the mess they left behind. I don’t even know if I can discover all that was lost. Eunice has agreed to help me look for a catalogue. I will be lucky if I manage to find the right names for the surviving pieces.

 

 

A letter to Sinead Blaythe, from Jules Stinner

 

            Dear Sinead,

 

I got your letter, though the parcel you sent arrived nearly a week after! I shouldn’t tell you because this means I did not write you back immediately, but I knew you would understand. The Ward is very busy, and my patients are in high need.

            But the parcel! What a treat. I don’t think I have had chocolate liquors since I was a child and certainly not in these flavors! Clever packing too, I will have to talk to the lead physicer on using such a method for some of our serums. With all the credit to you of course!

            I am glad you are settling into your new place. Poolwick sounds like an industrious place tucked along that river and rolling hills. Have you been to the country yet and seen the red bullock herds? My cousin tells me they are truly red and a splendor to see if you don’t mind the smell. And as for your work! What a dreadful thing. Though to be honest I am not surprised. Gristol is not like Morley in many ways and that includes the Abbey. I imagine it has something to do with it being the “official” religion as decreed by the Empire. Kind of like when a parent tells a child one thing, so they must do the opposite. Karnaca is similar. I hear that the Abbey has complete control in some districts and the Duke does nothing. I am quite secure, I assure you. Despite their fervor, the Abbey seems to like doctors and alchemists well enough. Our science is preferable to the magic of heathens.

            So, keep all that conjuring and witchcraft to yourself, my Morley Heretic. I should like to come and visit you soon.

 

Ever yours,

            Jules

  

19th Month of Harvest

            I do not feel I can be very open with my lack of faith in the Abbey. Lest I be charged with heresy or lose face with colleagues. I shall attempt to remain neutral in the face it all, though it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

 

28th Month of Harvest

            Last night was the gala and my suit was an inch too short at the ankles. That’s what I get for trying to save a few coins. Despite that, it was a lovely evening. I was surprised at the number of people who sponsored the museum, many from wealthy families or businesspeople. There is even a Historical Society of Sisters in Poolwick. I spoke with one woman and she was determined to have me speak at their next meeting about non-native historical artifacts being displayed in other countries. Frankly I feel that such a topic may be touchy, but I agreed to it nonetheless.

            Not much has happened and I find writing in this journal tiresome. It has become more of a chore than anything. I told myself I would write regularly but I will never claim to be a creature of good habits. Or any habits. Writing about one’s own life is entirely droll. What is interesting about going to the store and buying a bid of bread and Drumstead cheese? It is not that I am unhappy or don’t take pleasure in these little daily activities but writing about it to myself seems unnecessary. I have taken to drawing again in an attempt to maintain some sort of record and I prefer that to bending over a journal with the lamp buzzing above me. I find I do not enjoy reliving some of my previous thoughts. What was the saying? Viewing the self is like looking into a mirror and seeing you’ve had a bit of broccoli stuck in your teeth all evening. Something like that. Regardless, I feel ashamed of some of my thoughts and uncomfortable. I know I shouldn’t hide from it, but I fear I don’t have the energy to contend with an archive of looted artifacts, this smog, and the flaws of my inner self. I shall never be a published diarist ( ~~to whomever finds this after I am gone feel free to burn it, I beg of you~~ ).

            I have decided to use this journal for my studies. This will hopefully keep me somewhat in the habit of writing without agonizing over every little slip up I made. Memories are such a strange thing and times I think it is best to forget. This is a compromise that I can hopeful keep up.

            On the prior note, my search has uncovered a truly fascinating discovery! It seems that the Abbey was not so thorough in their pillaging of the archives. It seems that a bit of the Bone Carving collection has survived! The catalogue Eunice gave me listed a 47-piece collection of various bone and tooth art and carvings pre-dating the Great Burning. I almost cried at the idea that such a assemblage of pre-history was just wiped out. But lo! While I was cleaning a junk drawing in the back, I heard some rattling. There was a false bottom to the drawer. Another one of the mansion’s mysteries I assume. I was able to open it and inside was this bit of bone about the length of my pinky finger. I could tell immediately that it was very old and fragile, so I got my gloves and set up an examination station. It is incredible! Even at the academy we never handled such old artifacts.

I was so giddy about my discovery I nearly blurted it out to Eunice when I saw her. I caught myself, however, and told her I was excited to find an empty secret compartment. How close I came to jeopardizing this survivor. The purge of the archives was naught but a few years ago and though Eunice is a lovely person, I do not know if she is the type to report such a find or if Ms. Moon would. Years ago, I might have assumed they shared the same passion for historical preservation and research as me, but the real world is much harsher. So, for now I keep it locked in my desk in a tissue can. It should be dry and safe in there.

 

2nd Month of Nets

            The archive texts have also been purged. Not that they held much in the first place on Bone carvings, but a previous archivist had complied some sort of documentation about the collection. Based on what I have, I cannot tell was the age or even type of bone it is. The carving is also quite faded and can only be felt when you rub your bare finger across it. I try not to do that very much, but it is too small and curved to do an accurate rubbing. What I can tell is that it is likely a single symbol and not one of the more ornate pictorial or animal carvings often displayed in larger institutions. The bone itself is conical and hollow. The edges are extremely delicate and prone to flaking. I must admit to a sudden urge to stick my nail under a bit of it and peel it away. What a great idea for a Historical Inquisitor.

            What most interests me is the type of bone—perhaps the type of beast it came from—and the location it was discovered. These clues would help me narrow down the culture it might have originated from and cross-reference against any other works by those peoples. Truly this is a mystery that I am eager to solve!

            Note—I have written to Jules. The Ward has a large library and I know there must be something that can help guide me.

 

A letter to Sinead, from Jules Stinner

 

            What a mystery! Though I had hoped to hear more about Poolwick (and not more about you sitting at your desk or at home instead of going out) this is quite a little joy.

            I was able to pull a few recommendations for you. Though, you won’t like all of them. We do have a few patients who come through with delusions of magic and the Void. The Overseers call it corruption, but we understand it is a sickness of the mind. Anyways, when they leave treatment, they often donate their old books on the occult to help us understand what is fueling these psychoses.

Now you are probably looking at this letter thinking I’ve joined my patients in fantasy. You asked about a bit of carved bone not sojourns into the great beyond. But I saw an immediate connection to some of our cases. People in these crisis states fixate on crafting these little trinkets that are very similar to the drawing you sent me. I am not saying your item is the creation of some mad archivist, just that it is similar, and a good academic will search all options. So here are some recommendations for you to rule out.

Historical Arts an Anthology – Wionna Blackbear

 _Before Fire: Cultures and peoples of the Isle of Gristol_ – Brather Nyes

 _Tyvian Stone Carving: An Examination of the Draventri Caves_ – Natalia Pewter

A favorite by those in my circle is _The Hungry Cosmos_ by Anton Sokolov. Not _your_ favorite, I know. I remember that speech you gave against the works of Anton Sokolov our second year. Good points all around but it is hard to argue with whale oil and electricity.

Things are really picking up around the Ward, but I did send along another jar of that jam to keep you through your hours at your desk. Maybe take it out and share with that noisy neighbor of yours. Or stuff it down his audiophone.

Your southern heretic,

Jules

           

5th Month of Nets

            My neighbor listens to Shan Yun. Exclusively. I wonder if I tell him he lives in Karnaca he will move there and leave me in ~~piece~~ peace.

 

16th Month of Nets

            Jules is smart to send the jam. _The Hungry Cosmos_ , what rubbish. If I wanted the fixations of a fanatic, I would ask to sit in on the Abbey Court. Though Sokolov is probably more genuine than the people in the Abbey’s hands, I can’t see how it will help to learn about some occult beliefs in the modern era. Perhaps he cites some histories he sourced but knowing Sokolov’s writing, he is likely to claim the ideas are all his.

            I also saw the connection between ancient bone carvings and the ones people use today. The Abbey certainly did if they chose to ransack the collection. But it would be presumptuous to assume that ancient peoples used bone carvings or thought of them the same way people today do and I do not want to color my research with an easy answer such as “The Void did it”. I will visit the bookstore tomorrow and see about finding some these texts. The Anthology will need to be ordered in.

17th Month of Nets

            No copies in the Poolwick Bookstore. Seems that the Abbey keeps an eye on what literature comes into the city. What must I do? Visit a black market and get my throat slit?

  * Check with father about the Institute’s collection
  * Goosegrow is about four miles outside of Poolwick and has a bookstore called the Bright Lamp
  * ~~Find a black market???~~




End file.
